Window Display

With two fingers inserted at his waistband behind his buttoned fly, I pull him forward toward me.  The silver glint of his belt buckle winks up in the dusky light, teased to bright reflection by the late afternoon sun rays streaming through the window we are standing in front of – shades up, curtains open – and, sneaking a peek at his surprised countenance, I give him a wink of my own.  Is she really…? is written clearly in his expression, and with a lick of my lips and a flick of his zipper, he has his answer.

Oh yes she is.

A maelstrom of emotion chases across his face:  fear, excitement, desire, bewilderment.  He is both aroused and abashed; we are six stories up, overlooking the pool, standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window.  In the event someone seated below should look up…

Ah, but that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it?  I raise my eyebrows in acknowledgment of the very real possibility that somebody could be watching, and punctuate the “what if” with a mischevious smile.

This is something he’s wanted.  A public display.  Risk of discovery.  And he can see I’m about to make it happen.

Anticipation and caution war in his features when I pull his thick heat through the unzipped fly on his jeans, the conflicting feelings in his face quickly replaced by unadulterated want as I run my fingers along his length.  His hands are on my shoulders now, holding the lapels of my jacket – his jacket, the one I’ve borrowed to cover my otherwise nude self (he is dressed, save for the opening I’ve created by unzipping his pants)- and he shakily tugs me toward him as I stroke his shaft.

He presses his forehead against mine on a shaky exhale, and I still my movements until he focuses his eyes on my own.  Brushing my lips against his, I telegraph my intent – you want this, yes? – through the movements of my hands, rubbing the thumb of my right in slow circles over his leaking slit while gently massaging his balls with my left.

He shudders a breath and closes his eyes.

He takes a moment to steady his breathing, then deliberately widens his stance.

When he opens his eyes again it is to gaze steadily into mine.

His smile quirks upward, and when he nods his assent – yes, I want this – I begin to stroke…

…and it will be a looooong time before I stop.

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